


Disrespectful

by icedteainthebag



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-28
Updated: 2009-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:59:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedteainthebag/pseuds/icedteainthebag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally written for the <a href="http://bsg-pornbattle.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://bsg-pornbattle.livejournal.com/"><b>bsg_pornbattle</b></a>. Prompts: “bend over,” “fingers,” and “smack her presidential ass.” Also written in direct response to this Anonymous Kink Meme Entry. Hope the OP enjoys it. A lot. ;)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Disrespectful

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [](http://bsg-pornbattle.livejournal.com/profile)[**bsg_pornbattle**](http://bsg-pornbattle.livejournal.com/). Prompts: “bend over,” “fingers,” and “smack her presidential ass.” Also written in direct response to this Anonymous Kink Meme Entry. Hope the OP enjoys it. A lot. ;)

_**[bsg_pornbattle] Disrespectful (Laura/Bill)**_  
 **Title:** Disrespectful  
 **Author:** [](http://icedteainthebag.livejournal.com/profile)[**icedteainthebag**](http://icedteainthebag.livejournal.com/)  
 **Pairing:** Roslin/Adama   
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** through Crossroads  
 **Author's Notes:** Originally written for the [](http://bsg-pornbattle.livejournal.com/profile)[**bsg_pornbattle**](http://bsg-pornbattle.livejournal.com/). Prompts: “bend over,” “fingers,” and “smack her presidential ass.” Also written in direct response to this Anonymous Kink Meme Entry. Hope the OP enjoys it. A lot. ;)  
<http://icedteainthebag.livejournal.com/40270.html?thread=1467726#t1467726>

x x x x

She’s waiting for him in his quarters, on his couch, with her legs crossed and her hands atop her knee. Her heart is beating rapidly—she’s not sure what he’s going to do or say, and the idea excites her more than she’s willing to admit to herself.

She jumps when she hears the hatch spin open and her breath catches in her throat when she sees him enter. He closes the door, then turns to her and stands perfectly still.

“You’re naked,” he says, his voice low.

The edge of her mouth curls into a half-smile, her only response that he can see. She feels another response, a deep, warm, anticipatory throb inside.

“You’ve been a handful today,” he continues as he unbuttons his jacket and removes it, tossing it to a chair.

“I certainly have,” she murmurs. She uncrosses her legs and lets her knees fall apart, only slightly, enough to catch his eye.

“Getting into an argument with me in front of the entire CIC is not only disrespectful, but unacceptable.”

“What’s unacceptable is your not-guilty vote for that motherfrakking weasel Gaius Baltar,” she says. She feels a stir of anger inside her as she stands up and slowly walks over to him. Her heels sink into the carpet. She stops inches from his chest and looks up into his eyes indignantly, and she feels a flutter of intimidation at his disapproving glare.

“I’m the Admiral of this ship,” he murmurs, and her lips part with a soft pant. She can’t help it—his eyes sear into her, no matter how hard she tries to maintain her composure. “And when you’re on my ship, you won’t question my authority.”

“Well, then, Admiral,” she says as she runs her finger down the cotton of his tanks, then along the waistband of his trousers. She’s wet, so wet for him already. “You’d better make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

He steps away and walks over to the chair at his dining room table. She watches him and pulls her hair behind her ear. He yanks the chair out from under the table and sits down on it.

“Get over here,” he says gruffly, looking into her eyes.

She stands her ground and bites her lower lip. The throbbing between her legs is nearly overwhelming her, yet she cocks an eyebrow expectantly at him.

“Madam President,” he says, and she thinks he’s actually clenching his jaw. “Get over here _now_.”

She loses her breath and it’s not until her lungs start aching that she remembers to breathe. She walks over to him slowly and stands before him. She crosses her arms over her stomach and their eyes meet.

“I need to make sure we’re clear on my disciplinary policies.” He runs one hand down her bare thigh, then up the back of it to cup her ass. She bites her tongue and nods, speechless for the first time in she doesn’t know how long.

“I want you over my knee,” he says, and she looks down and can see the outline of his cock as it strains against the rough fabric of his trousers.

She leans down over him, their gaze electric.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” she whispers, her heart racing.

His grip on her ass tightens and he pulls her sharply toward him, knocking her off balance. She grabs the back of the chair with a gasp, and she wonders if he can smell her arousal—she can, and it makes her blush.

“I can,” he murmurs, “And I just did, and you need to get into my frakkin’ lap now, Laura Roslin. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll do exactly as I say.”

She whimpers in the back of her throat and sinks to her knees in front of him. She puts one hand on his thigh and the other one palms his cock as she glares up into his eyes. She wants him to wither under her stare—he doesn’t, but as her hand grinds against him, she hears him suck in a quick breath through his teeth.

“Anything you say, sir,” she says, and her voice wavers slightly. She resists the urge to shove her hand between her legs, where she so desperately wants to be touched. Instead, she rises and lays her body over his lap. Her stomach presses into his thighs and her ass rises as her feet keep her steady on the carpet.

She can hear his ragged breathing, and she’s pleased that he’s as keyed up as she is, that this is probably driving him as crazy as it’s driving her right now.

“What are you going to—“ she starts, but she’s interrupted by the hard slap of his hand on her ass. She whimpers loudly as she exhales and feels the spot under his hand tingle painfully.

“This,” he says as he rubs the tender spot, “Is what a President gets when she’s disrespectful.”

She moans, unable to stop herself. “I’ve been so disrespectful,” she manages. She squeezes her eyes shut and the second impact of his hand is harder than the first. She holds in her strangled yelp.

“Disrespectful,” he growls as his fingers trace over the spot she’s sure is reddening, maybe welted at this point. “And a real frakkin’ pain in my ass.”

“I know,” she breathes. “I know, I have been.”

She wants more, no, she needs more. She writhes in his lap and rubs herself against his hard cock as much as she can. His third spank hits the other side of her ass and it’s harder than the first two.

“Frak me,” she cries out. She can’t hold it in. She’s surprised her wetness isn’t dripping down her legs at this point. She’s so hot she can barely take it.

“Good idea,” he says, and before she can comprehend what this means she feels him part her thighs with his hand.

“Oh, Gods,” she whispers as his fingers tease her opening. They swirl through her wetness and she moans with a shift of her hips.

“You’re so frakking wet,” he says as he runs the fingers of his free hand down her spine. “Is this all for me?”

She hums, the word barely coming out. “Yes.”

He thrusts two fingers into her without warning, but she’s so ready for them, so ready for him. She moans in pleasure as her hips rise to meet his hand. She grips the side of the chair and spreads her legs more to steady herself.

“Do you respect me now?” he says as his fingers course through her again, all the way to the knuckle. He curls them inside of her and drags them back out slowly.

“Frak yes,” she moans, “Oh Gods, yes, I do, Bill—”

“Admiral Adama.” His voice is sharp.

“Admiral Adama,” she breathes as she clenches her muscles around his thick fingers. “Yes, Admiral Adama.”

His fingers frak her faster and she works her hips the best she can against them, whimpers escaping her throat erratically. His fingers slip out of her and slide over her clit and she cries out more loudly, and she’s so wound up, she can’t take this much longer. Her head is fuzzy and warmth radiates through her abdomen.

“I bet you like that,” he murmurs, his fingers working rough circles over her clit, unrelenting.

“Yes,” she hisses.

“Are you going to come like this?”

She’s lost in the motion of his fingers, circling, driving her closer to the edge.

“Is this how you want me to get you off?” His voice is more demanding now and her response is nothing but a guttural cry as she feels her orgasm start swirling with his motions.

“Mmmhhh,” she groans, so close, so close.

“Now, Laura,” he says firmly, and the words send her over the edge, the tone of his voice, the slick pads of his fingers against her.

“Frak,” she cries out. “Oh, Gods,” and then she’s reduced to a groan, her teeth clenched, and she feels herself spasm deep inside.

“You,” he murmurs as he dips his fingers into her one more time, “Are so frakking hot. Sweet Asses of Kobol.”

She laughs softly, breathlessly. She rises a little off of his lap, curious as to whether he’ll let her up. He doesn’t protest, so she stands up on her shaking legs and swings one leg over his to straddle him.

She looks into his eyes and they don’t say a word. He runs his dampened fingers over her lips and she flicks her tongue out to taste them—she tastes sweet, bitter, musky—then she parts her lips and he slips his fingers into her mouth. She rolls her tongue around them, then sucks hungrily. This makes him take a sharp breath and she moans as her taste teases her tongue.  
“Good?” he asks, with a little smile.

“Mhmmm,” she murmurs, his fingers still in her mouth.

His other hand slides into the back of her hair and pulls her head down for a kiss. His tongue replaces his fingers in her mouth and she sighs deeply, aftershocks still sending shivers through her body.

“Have I been corrected?” she asks in a breath over his lips.

“I think you’ve learned your lesson,” he murmurs before nibbling on her lower lip.

“For now,” she breathes as she kisses him again, slowly. She pulls away and presses her forehead against his. “You’d better watch out, Admiral. Once you step onto Colonial One, you’re going to have to obey my rules.”

“And what if I don’t?” His fingers trail down her back and she smiles.

“Then you’ll be privy to the disciplinary policies of the Roslin administration,” she says as she kisses the side of his mouth. “And I’ll warn you, we do not treat rule breakers very well.”

“Depends on your definition of ‘very well,’” he says with a chuckle.

“Maybe someday you’ll find out,” she purrs, kissing him again.  
  



End file.
